


Broken Fugue: Solfège

by MireilleTanaka



Series: Rêveries, Passions (Music AU) [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Coping issues, Drabbles, Escapism, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Illness, Jazz Club AU, Mixed Signals, More Characters & Tags Added Later, Music AU, Music school AU, Painful Secrets, Pining, Reverse Crush (Miraculous Ladybug), Self Esteem Issues, Snapshots, Stop Decapitalizing My Tags, Suppressed Love, complicated situations, half identity reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-07-31 20:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MireilleTanaka/pseuds/MireilleTanaka
Summary: A collection of non-chronological drabbles using Adrien AUGreste prompts, to develop a Music School / Jazz Club AU I've been planning for a while.Pilot series, so take everything with a grain of salt.





	1. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien Agreste, age seven.

“But Father, it’s sunny out. Didn’t you say—”

“No, Adrien. You only have five days until the competition.”

“But I’m a  _ kid,  _ Father. Aren’t kids supposed to play? I want to play with the other kids.”

“It’s dangerous. What if you break your arm?”

Adrien glared at the black and white keys, feeling hatred rise in his chest like bile. “When will I be able to have fun like other kids?”

Gabriel watched Adrien for a tense moment with a somber expression on his face before answering. “You cannot be like other children. You will understand when you are older.”


	2. Feathers

“I didn’t know ladybugs had feathers.” Chat Noir leaned back in the piano bench as the new singer passed, on the way to her seat. “Then again, they  _ are  _ called ‘ladybirds’ in England.”

‘Coccinelle,’ as she called herself, smirked and adjusted her feathered mask. “Well, the mask gives me wings. I wouldn’t be caught dead singing for a crowd without it.”

“Why not? Your voice is lovely.”

“Flatterer,” she giggled.

“I’m not. Sing again sometime,” he urged, but her friend chose that moment to drag her away, gushing praises. The blue of her backward glance seared itself into his memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's called Coccinelle in this series to evoke a similar feeling for the English reader as a French girl calling herself Ladybug would for a French person. When it's not your own language, it sounds and feels different. And because of the setting / context, I just thought Coccinelle seemed more suitable.
> 
> Meh, artistic liberties. ^_^


	3. Just A Friend

Practice rooms were supposed to be soundproof, but sound bled through anyway, and Adrien recognized the rich lilt of her vibrato from down the hall. He knew which door to push open, and that she wouldn’t mind.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

Marinette lowered her violin. “Aha! Just the person I wanted to see.”

He quirked a brow. “Having trouble with something? Or were you in the mood for coffee?” He held up a fresh cup. Caramel macchiato, her favorite.

“You bought me coffee?”

“Nah, happened to buy an extra cup on a whim.” He winked, just to make her blush.


	4. Lucky Charm

Adrien ran his thumb over the chain of cloth jasmine flowers he held loosely, and tried to remember the scent of her perfume. Unsettling as it was, her memory was fading.

“What’s that?”

“A lucky charm. My mother gave it to me.” He held it out for Marinette to see.

“It’s beautiful. Are you nervous?”

“I don’t get nervous anymore.” Just bravado, of course.

“I know how to make you relax.” She sat him down and dug into his shoulders with her supple fingers.

“I wish you could do this on stage,” Adrien murmured, closing his eyes. “That would work.”


	5. Partners

Marinette sat on the edge of a chair close to Adrien’s back. “Remind me why I let you drag me out here.”

“If you want to loosen up musically, this is the perfect medicine for you.” He threw her a winning smile. “What are you doing hiding behind me? Get out there.”

“Nope, I’m staying right here.”

An oboe started a meandering melody, soon peppered with steady percussion.

The bass slid in with a deep thrum.

“I hate improv,” Marinette whined. “This is embarrassing.”

“Just be free. Get out of your head, Marinette.”

“Fine. I’ll join in when you do.”


	6. Cardboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd I'm caught up! If you're reading this, let me know your thoughts. Love to hear from y'all.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong… his corrections were helpful. It just didn’t feel good to be reminded of how much I suck.” Marinette glumly uncapped her green tea latte to stir a packet of sugar into it.

“You don’t suck!” Adrien assured her. “My father’s just like that.”

“Your…  _ father?! _ ”

“Oh.” Adrien rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Guess I forgot to tell you.”

“You  _ forgot  _ to tell me that you’re the son of The Legendary Gabriel Agreste, my violin idol?” Marinette gaped, flabbergasted. “What else don’t I know about you?”

He shrugged. “You know everything that matters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We Agrestes are soloists." -- Gabriel
> 
> \--
> 
> Oh right, the prompt? ... Because her to-go cup is made of cardboard, of course!
> 
> C'mon guys, cut me a break, these prompts are just an excuse for me to write.


	7. uwu

“Moon River? In English?” She blinked behind the mask, luscious false eyelashes giving her the appearance of a doll. “I’d have to look up the lyrics.”

“Be ready, then, Ladybird. You’re next.” He winked and started the accompaniment for Luka—on the saxophone this time—watching Coccinelle weave between the tables in her strapless red chiffon dress.

When she finally sang, stealing glances at her phone for the lyrics, yet expressing as if it were her hundredth time, he fell in love with her voice all over again.

She was no Marinette, but certainly charming enough to hold his attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was out of my comfort zone. :P Is this uwu?
> 
> The song: https://youtu.be/26DU7XLUvMU


	8. Cat Tendencies

Adrien’s phone buzzed loudly against the wood of the piano with another incoming text.

_ Hey… if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I just didn’t have anyone to go with. _

His heart sank as he read Marinette’s message three times. He didn’t want to reject her, but going to a concert together sounded a little too much like a date. She was probably worried about his lack of response—he should say something.

He typed with heavy fingers:  _ Sorry, I’m behind on my repertoire. Don’t think I can afford to go out tonight. _

He set down the phone, feeling heartsick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might be wondering what this has to do with 'cat tendencies.' There is a relation, though it may not be clear to you. ;) Just accept it.
> 
> I might add in additional drabbles from keyword prompts (outside of the Adrien AUGreste prompts) if I have more time to write. There are a lot of scenes I want to write. Thanks for reading, anyone who's following along! Let me know you what you think, feel, like, dislike, and wonder about. :D


	9. Catastrophe

He was reconnecting with friends in the lobby when the summons arrived:  _ Can you come backstage? _

He was at the dressing room door within minutes.

“I’m so nervous. I’m going to die,” Marinette breathed, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, glowing with excitement.

“You’ll do great.” Adrien patted her arm, trying to channel calm.

“I need a hug. Please?”

Before Adrien could protest ruining her immaculate appearance, she buried into him—he had no choice but to fold his arms around her.

This had become normal, but something in her eyes when they parted wasn’t.

_ Please don’t fall in love, _ he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the temptation to elaborate and describe. As usual, I use the prompt loosely. That's going to keep happening until the end.
> 
> No, this isn't the concert she mentioned in the last 'chapter'; this time, she's the one performing.
> 
> It's 4 a.m. and bah, the way AO3 counts words is different from my app, so I have to keep subtracting a couple when I post.
> 
> Is any of this making sense? Do you want more drabbles? :P


	10. Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned I might add some random extra drabbles in between the Adrien August ones. Well, here’s one. 
> 
> A snippet of conversation between Adrien and Marinette, before she visits the jazz café as Coccinelle and before she finds out who his father is.

“I’ll let you in on a secret.”

“Hm?”

“There’s this jazz club I play at, but no one knows who I am except the owner.”

“Really?” Marinette frowned. “Why do you have to hide?”

“My father thinks recreational playing is a waste of time. He’d easily have the place shut down to keep me from going if he found out.”

“He sounds … oppressive.”

“Yeah,” Adrien huffed. “A little. But I understand him. I try to keep him happy, but what I do in disguise can’t hurt, right? You should come to the café sometime.”

“Honestly, jazz isn’t really my thing.”


	11. Abandon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The word limit was making me restless, so I indulged myself with a _feast_ of five hundred words for today's prompt. Back to one hundred for tomorrow...

“Those feathers aren’t real, are they?”

Coccinelle was wearing the same mask, but a different red dress this time, off-the-shoulder with a sweetheart neckline and a slight high-low hem. An outer layer of black tulle was dotted with black appliqué flowers gathered along the hemline, vaguely evoking a ladybug look without the use of polka dots.

She fingered the flourish of red and black feathers at the corner of her mask. “No, they’re synthetic. If I had more time, I wouldn’t mind going to the trouble of finding real ones and dyeing them, but… I don’t, so I took a shortcut.”

“Hold on, Ladybird, you made the mask?”

She nodded.

“Impressive. Velvety pipes  _ and  _ creative. I like you more and more.”

A blush appeared under the bottom edge of the mask. “Was that a Zootopia reference?”

“We _are_ both named after animals. Anyway, I was going to say that it’s good the feathers are fake, otherwise I’d have to steer clear of you—and I wouldn’t want that. I’m allergic, you see.”

“Noted for future reference.”

“Ah, you’re keeping tabs on me? I’m flattered.”

“You’re an incorrigible flirt.”

“You seem to like it.” Chat Noir’s lips stretched in a smirk that was more than a little smug.

“Since our pianist has abandoned his post,” Nathaniel teased into the mic. “I guess I’ll be singing a capella, unless Luka and Juleka want to accompany me on guitar and double bass?”

The two in question made their way onstage, murmuring their assent.

“Care to join, Coccinelle? You’d be perfect for the second voice—Fly Me To The Moon.”

“Hey,” Chat Noir protested loudly. “You’re stealing my company?”

“Sorry,” Coccinelle called to Nathaniel, holding up a hand. “I’m not singing tonight.”

“While that’s a shame,” Chat Noir remarked as the instrumentation began, “I’m glad you decided to stay with me.”

“I’m just too tired right now. I’m in a listening mood.” Coccinelle rested her chin in her palm and gazed across the table at Chat Noir, eyes glittering, reflecting the sequins in her mask.

“Why do  _ you _ wear a mask?” he asked.

“I’m not the type who would come to a place like this.”

Something about her response bothered Chat Noir. He wore a mask out of necessity, because there would be consequences if he didn’t, but her mask seemed to be a result of self-constraint. “Why let yourself be defined by the so-called ‘type’ of person you are? You shouldn’t have to wear a mask.”

“Well, maybe I like who I am,” Coccinelle responded, a touch defensively. “But now and then, I need a break from being myself.”

“Fair enough.” He could relate to that. Sure, he liked who he was. He just didn’t like the life he’d been dealt, and being Chat Noir gave him a temporary escape. An alternate reality where his actions were inconsequential. “Well, then, if you’re in a listening mood, I’ll play you a song when Nate’s done.”

Her cheeks dimpled with a smile. “I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?
> 
> Also, I have a question for you. Has anyone had experience with jazz clubs / jazz cafés? I have not, but my cousin plays sax and has been to a few, so he gave me a general description of what it’s like and how it is for the players. I actually want this place to be a jazz club, but I don’t drink and feel uncomfortable writing about people drinking, so that’s why I decided to make it a café. It was my attempt to make it more PG. Part of me really wants it to be a jazz club though. If anyone can shed some light on what it’s like and how decadent the atmosphere is, that would help me decide.


	12. Childhood

“Who are you?”

Eight-year-old Adrien sat on the piano bench, hands clasped in his lap, eyeing the tall, dark-haired woman apprehensively.

A disapproving look flashed across her face at his blunt question, but she answered calmly, “My name is Nathalie. I’ll be your piano teacher from today.”

Adrien sat straighter, alarmed. “Where’s Mom?”

“I wasn’t told—you’ll have to ask your father. Now, where are you in your scales?”

“I can play them all. Working on accelerations.” Adrien wanted to run to his mother’s room to see if she was there and okay.

“Why don’t you start from C Major?”


	13. Tattoo

“Dude, I’m thinking of getting a tattoo.”

“Of what?” Adrien stopped in the middle of Ravel’s  _ Gaspard de la nuit _ to look at his friend, sprawled out on the couch and scrolling through his phone.

“Not sure yet. Something with Alya’s name.”

“What if you break up?

“We won’t, dude. I’ll love her forever.” Nino turned his phone to show Adrien a stylized drawing of a fox. “This would be cool, right? With her name underneath. Y’know, ‘cause she’s a foxy lady.” He grinned.

Adrien nodded absent-mindedly, contemplating loving someone forever. The idea was appealing, but made him feel uneasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated about whether to interpret this prompt literally or figuratively, but copped out and went with the former.
> 
> I have a bit more time now, so I’m going back to editing audio for YouTube and writing The Water Was Never Afraid, but I’ll be continuing these daily drabbles and will soon write the actual story!
> 
> Ravel’s Gaspard de la nuit: https://youtu.be/hKgcHjq1xKQ
> 
> I seem to remember that one of my best friends in high school used to play this piece, but I’m not sure anymore since I did some research and found out it’s one of the most notoriously technically difficult piano pieces. Then again, she did cry to us about how much ink there was all over the page and how fast the notes were, so it’s possible. The sheet music looks familiar.
> 
> I had more to write about the fox, but it can wait for the real story.


	14. Shapeshift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This happens after Marinette finds out Adrien plays at a jazz club, before she knows he's Chat Noir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has turned into the Hundred Word Challenge. Any number of hundreds, as long as it's an even hundred. :P
> 
> Here are three hundred words.

Marinette slid down the wall into a sitting position, hugging her knees, hoping she wouldn't have to wait too long for a practice room.

She heard the erratic strains of “Scarbo” from Ravel’s _ Gaspard de la nuit _ from the practice room across the hall. It could be Adrien—she knew he was working on the piece.

She heard a sour note as his fingers tripped on a challenging passage, followed by the same passage played twice at a slower tempo. He tried it again up to speed, tripped again, and cursed. A frustrated, discordant jumble of notes that was clearly not part of the piece sounded, before melting into a smooth progression of jazzy chords and whimsical runs up and down the keys.

Definitely Adrien. And he was stressed out.

Marinette got to her feet, slinging her violin case over her shoulder. As often as Adrien barged into her practice room, she still didn’t feel comfortable doing the same to him, so she knocked.

“Come in.” When he saw her, his face lit up with a smile. “Angel! Here to rescue me from my personal hell?”

“In exchange for a practice room.” She winked. “Sounded like you needed a break.”

His face fell. “I was hoping we could take a break together, but, okay. You need to practice. The room's all yours.”

Marinette pulled out her wallet. “How about I just borrow the room while you get us some frozen yogurt from the food court?”

“Deal!”

Marinette grinned, happy to see him cheer up. “When you get back, you have three options. One, keep practicing. Two, let me have the room. Or three, we go anywhere, your choice, as long as I’m back in an hour to practice.”

He nodded, pushing away her outstretched hand offering a bill. “My treat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble with this prompt. But maybe you'll understand the relevance. :)


	15. Fairytale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doscientas palabras. It's really bothering me that I edited the tags to be properly capitalized, but when I save it, the words are lowercase again.

A smile teased Chat Noir’s lips as Coccinelle left the club with a coy parting look, the rose he had given her raised to her nose.

Nino leaned on the piano. “What makes her special?”

Chat Noir shrugged. “She’s fun, cute, and has the voice of an angel. I wouldn’t mind dating a girl like her.”

Nino searched his face. “Is that what you want?”

“If she wants to, why not?”

Nino put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and whispered, “Adrien. The fact that you’re wearing masks doesn’t make this a fairytale with no bearing on reality.”

A dark look crossed Chat Noir’s face, and his responding tone came out snappish. “If she doesn’t want me to know who she is, how serious can she be? What’s wrong with us having some fun?”

Nino looked conflicted. “Okay, dude. You know I want you to be happy. I just—never pegged you as the type to enjoy cheap thrills.”

Chat Noir inhaled sharply, face reddening, lips pressed together, eyes filling with tears that didn’t fall. He blinked, and they were gone. “That’s not what this is,” he muttered.

“Okay. Sorry, dude.” Nino’s tone was gentle. “You know I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? I had three different ideas for this prompt, but the other two had too many plotty strings attached, so I went with this one. I'm excited to write the actual story. This exercise has helped me organize my thoughts, and I appreciate all the feedback.
> 
> I see the word "Akumatized" coming up in a few days... what am I supposed to do with a word that doesn't exist or make sense in this AU? :P


	16. Coffee Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Age eight, shortly after Childhood.

“Mom, why is Miss Nathalie teaching me piano?”

Émilie smiled at her son and squeezed his hand. “It’s only for now.”

It was cold enough for gloves, but they had both forgotten, so their fingers were rosy and numbing. Adrien buried his small hand deeper in hers, seeking solace. “But why?” His lips stung from the chill.

“It’s nothing to worry about, Adrien.” Though gentle, her voice was laced with a sternness that made his questions die in his throat.

Barely keeping up with her long strides, Adrien followed his mother into her favorite coffee shop on the corner a block away from the mansion, breathing a sigh of relief as the fragrant, warm air embraced them.

“One small café au lait, and one small chocolat chaud, please.” She tugged her hand away from Adrien to pay.

He got distracted ogling the artfully composed pastries lining the display.

“Adrien, pay attention.”

He looked up, to realize that she was already waiting at a table for their drinks to be served. He ran to join her.

“I don’t like her.” He pouted petulantly, elbows propped on the table, cheekbones lifted on his palms. “She couldn’t tell me the story behind the Nocturne in C Sharp Minor, so it’s no fun learning.”

Émilie reached out to stroke his bangs with her fingertips. “Listen to the music, my love, and the story will tell itself.”

“Can’t you tell me? Now?”

“You need to learn to hear the story for yourself. Maybe that’s what Miss Nathalie is trying to teach you.”

“I don’t think so,” Adrien sulked. He wasn’t fooled.

A waitress brought out their drinks in to-go cups. They stood up, feeling thoroughly revived after the brief respite from the winter weather.

Curling his fingers around the warm cup, Adrien drifted to his mother’s left side, where he had been walking before, only to find her hand occupied by her coffee. He circled around and took her other hand.

It was cold, hanging limp at her side instead of molding around his. Horror-struck with a sense of eerie wrongness, he let go abruptly, frozen in place.

Émilie had taken three steps before realizing he wasn’t with her, and looked back. “Come on, darling,” she called, answering his shell-shocked expression with a quizzical look.

He blinked, returning to himself, and caught up, clutching his cup in both palms, afraid to take her hand again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. What do you think about this chapter? What do you think is happening? I’m curious what clues people pick up on.
> 
> Chopin’s Nocturne in C Sharp Minor, for your listening pleasure: https://youtu.be/_hyAOYMUVDs


	17. Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien has a pleasant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, folks.
> 
> Most of the rest of the drabbles will focus on Adrien's past, since it sets things up for the present day. Broken Fugue (the full series) will be set in the present day, and while these drabbles will enhance people's understanding of Adrien's psyche in BF, it won't be necessary to read them to appreciate the story.

The alarm rang, indicating it was time for Adrien’s piano lesson. He paused the computer game he was playing to turn it off, chest heavy with resentment.

He hadn’t practiced; he wasn’t ready.

He didn’t care.

After five minutes, the phone beside his bed rang—he picked up grudgingly.

His father’s voice was stern.  _ “Adrien, come down for your piano lesson.” _

“One minute,” he grumbled.

Hanging up, he sped through his working pieces in double time in a bare semblance of practice, grabbed his books, and plodded out of his room, down the stairs to the music salon.

Upon entering, it wasn’t Nathalie’s disciplinary glare that welcomed him, as it had for the past five months, but rather, the sight of his mother’s back swaying in time with Bach’s Fugue in C Minor. She was wearing a blue linen sundress, her hair braided loosely and pinned up with a golden clip.

Feeling tears well up, Adrien ran across the carpeted floor and slid into the bench beside his mother, embracing her tightly around the waist. He watched her hands, pale and bony, dance across the keys.

When the piece drew to a close, she kissed his head. “Shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bach's Fugue in C Minor: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0b93Bkdksek
> 
> Do people like these drabbles? Are all the musical details boring? (I haven't even included that many since I have a word limit...) If I included more musical details, would you still read? Would you read Broken Fugue once I start writing the full story? Do these drabbles make you curious? Or are you bored? Do you like to see flashbacks into Adrien's childhood? Or do you prefer to get that info through conversational anecdotes in the present day? Are you picking up hints and forming any theories about Adrien's backstory / motivation or are you clueless? (It's okay if you're clueless, I know I'm being very subtle...)
> 
> Just curious! :D


	18. Akumatized

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Age nine.

Adrien curled under the blankets, holding a photo of his mother, letting a steady stream of tears drip over the bridge of his nose and down his temple. She had seemed to be back to normal. She had seemed fine. Now, all of a sudden, she was in the hospital.

He touched her cheek, frozen into a perpetual smile, and a fresh wave of tears leaked into his pillow.

A knock sounded on the door. His academic alarm had gone off and the sun was already shining brightly through his windows. He was probably in trouble for not making an appearance in the study, but what did it matter?

The door opened. Nathalie’s voice—the last thing he wanted to hear right now—grated on his ears.

“Good morning, Adrien. Your father told me to come in, since you didn’t come down for your lessons.”

“I can’t study right now,” he croaked, followed by a wet sniffle. He didn’t want to study with Nathalie. He wanted his mother.

“Your academic lessons are called off for today and until further notice. You’re joining the Amadeus Competition next week, and your father has signed you up for some rather ambitious pieces, so we’ll be starting on them today.”

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut. “Mom is dying,” he breathed faintly. “Why do I have to practice the piano?”

“I’m sorry, Adrien.” The bed shifted as Nathalie took a seat at the foot, breaking her professional demeanor. “These are your father’s orders. And besides, your mother is not dying. You’ll have a chance to visit her tonight.”

“Father said I wasn’t ready for Amadeus yet,” Adrien protested in a despondent monotone.

“Well, you have a week to make yourself ready. This competition could jump-start your career. The winners almost always become world-famous soloists.”

“‘Career’ … isn’t that something for grown-ups?”

Nathalie was silent for a moment, before explaining in a low voice, “Your father is preparing everything for you to have a successful career once you  _ become _ an adult. Please, Adrien, get out of bed. You can ask your father all your questions when you accompany him to the hospital later.”

Pulling himself up slowly, Adrien placed the photo on his nightstand tenderly, wiped his tears, and plodded to his piano, still in pajamas. “I don’t feel like going downstairs. Can I use mine?”

Nathalie sighed, pitying the boy. “Yes, Adrien. That should be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chose to interpret "Akumatized" to mean "Gabriel exerts his authority over other people to accomplish his unreasonable goals." I had other potential ideas for this word, but this happened.
> 
> I made up the name Amadeus Competition because I thought it sounded cool, but when I looked it up, it turned out there are actually two piano competitions by this name. The one Adrien is participating in here (fictional :D) is an international competition for all youth, with the mission of putting the spotlight on up and coming piano talents on the world's stage. In other words, it's very competitive, especially since he's only nine. He's good enough to easily win within his age group, but to be recognized within the scope of the entire competition is a very ambitious goal.


	19. Cosplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first, I had no idea what to do with this word. :P
> 
> On an unrelated note (^_~), I realize I have a lot of WIPs, and I haven’t given up on any of them. For anyone who’s interested, you can follow me on Tumblr for updates about all my stories, including the audio series. (I haven’t been publishing many status updates, but I will start, since people have voiced concerns about me abandoning certain series.
> 
> You can find me here: mireilletan.tumblr.com

Adrien pounded out the final chords of the tempestuous third movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, stood, and dramatically strode off the performance floor amidst a smattering of applause.

Two extra credit points in the bag. All history professors were offering extra credit for anyone who attended the Composers’ Ball in costume and played a piece by their composer.

“Adrien! Or should I say Beethoven?” A familiar voice emerged from the crowd on his left. “Thank goodness, I thought I was going to have to suffer through this alone.”

Adrien suppressed a smile, putting on his most curmudgeonly look and pretending to ignore her.

“Adrien!” Marinette stepped in front of him, hands on her corseted waist. She was wearing a sumptuous, flowing royal-blue gown, trimmed with intricate patterns of golden embroidery, layers of lace cascading from sleeves flared at the elbow and peeking from the generously-cut bust line.

Adrien stared for a moment, dumbstruck, before remembering his game. “What’s that? Sorry, young lady, didn’t hear you coming,” he said loudly in a gruff voice.

Marinette’s sincere expression morphed into a sly, sidelong glance. “Oh, acting in-character, are you?”

“Eh? What?” He leaned closer.

Marinette narrowed her eyes and touched his cravat, letting out a laugh. “Is this a napkin?

_ A very elegant and convincing napkin, thank you. _ “Eh? Speak up, young lady! Who are you, anyway?”

Marinette grabbed his hand and placed his fingers on her throat. “Élisabeth Jacquet de la Guerre—pleased to meet you. Surely you’re familiar with my work.” When his eyes flicked in confusion to his hand pressed to her throat, she explained in a teasing tone, “Thought the vibrations of my vocal cords would help you hear.”

Adrien’s cheeks colored unwittingly, but he continued in an exaggerated, rough tone. “Ah, yes! A tad traditional for my taste, I’m afraid.” He retracted his hand, dropping the act to remark in awe, “Where did you get a dress like that? It’s gorgeous. _ You _look gorgeous.”

“I made it,” Marinette grinned proudly.

_“Made _ it?” Adrien gaped, before picking up his dramatic tone again. “By God, woman, where do find the time?” He touched her throat.

Marinette swatted his hand away. “You’re ridiculous. I made it a few years ago when I was going through a Baroque phase. I’ll admit, the extra credit is only half the reason I’m here. When else am I going to have an excuse to wear this?”

Adrien touched her throat again. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

“Stop that,” Marinette giggled, pushing his hand away.

“Seriously though, I’m impressed.”

She curtsied.

“What are you playing?”

“Her Sonata No. 5 in A Minor, second movement. I’m at the end of the list, so I was walking around checking out everyone’s costumes. Gotta say, I’m a little disappointed.”

Adrien snorted. “Sibelius just tacked on a fake moustache and called it a day. I don’t think he deserves the extra credit.”

“I should get five points,” Marinette pouted indignantly.

“Too bad I’m not your TA. I’d make it happen.” Adrien winked.

_“Good thing _ you’re not my TA, or I’d constantly be questioning the validity of my grades,” Marinette shot back. “Okay, I’m famished. Did you eat anything yet?” She started off in the direction of the glamorously set buffet table.

“Are you sure you can fit anything in there?” Adrien poked her belly, his finger colliding with the stiff wall of her corset.

“I could eat a three-course meal, and it would disappear. It’s part of the magic of the corset.” Marinette took a plate and eyed the extravagant spread of tartlets, canapés, cheeses, deviled eggs, and more.

“Wasn’t Jacquet de la Guerre accepted into the royal court? That would make you a princess.”

“That isn’t how it works.” She helped herself to a cucumber bite topped with a cream cheese whip and smoked salmon twisted in a spiral to look like a flower. “There were thousands of people in the royal court.”

“Try this, Princess. It’s fancy enough to suit you.” Adrien lifted a canapé to her plate—a croustade shell filled with an unidentifiable seafood and something creamy, topped with a garnish of orange roe and a sprig of dill.

Marinette rolled her eyes, accepting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, 700 words. Got a little carried away. I had fun with this one. ;D Needed a little comic relief after these chapters about Émilie. How was this chapter? Let me know your thoughts. ^_^
> 
> What Adrien played (Beethoven Moonlight Sonata, Third Movement):  
https://youtu.be/BV7RkEL6oRc (The lights on this one are mesmerizing... his notes are so orderly.)
> 
> What Marinette will play (Élisabeth Jacquet de la Guerre Violin Sonata No. 5 in A Minor, Second Movement):  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjNLY3BlRtc
> 
> For anyone who doesn’t know, Beethoven went deaf for the latter part of his life.


	20. Fencing

Adrien raked a hand through sweaty locks, sweeping them off his forehead to one side, and shrugged out of his fencing jacket.

His left foot tingled from toe to ankle, prickling as if it had been asleep. He had stumbled a few times on the strip. Had he landed badly? The matches were so quick, he couldn’t quite remember. He hoped that was it.

He sat on the bench and propped his foot on the opposite knee, swiveling it in circles experimentally. The tingling continued.

“You okay there?” Kagami asked.

“Yeah, fine,” he answered, trying to shrug it off.

—

Marinette rambled away as they walked.

“… but I’m not sure if my interpretation works. It would really help if you could play the piano part for me. Not to add more to your plate.” Marinette paused, noticing he wasn’t paying attention. “Hey… Adrien?”

“Huh?” He looked at her, eyes refocusing from staring into the fifth dimension. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What?”

“Are you okay?”

“Uh…” He pushed down the feeling of dread climbing his chest. “Y-Yeah. I’m fine. Just landed badly during fencing—my foot feels funny.”

“You fence?”

“Yup. Once a week, for the exercise.”

“Just when I think I’m getting to know you, you pull out yet another surprise. You should have mentioned your foot earlier—we could have just eaten at the cafeteria.”

Adrien shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not sprained or anything, so the exercise should do me good.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m pretty sure the recommended remedy is to ice and elevate a rolled ankle. Not exercise.”

“Busted. The truth is, I just really wanted Indian food.” He grinned.

“All right, but ice it when you get home, okay?”

“Sure.” This topic was making him feel uncomfortable. “So, what were you saying about Mendelssohn?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU, fencing isn’t as serious for Adrien as it seems to be in canon. He’d been forced to do it since his childhood, but now that he’s in university, he does it by choice, for the health benefits of exercise and to blow off steam.
> 
> As always, I’m curious what you think about this chapter. A penny for your thoughts? How did this chapter make you feel? Confused? Curious? Frustrated? Bored?


	21. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien eavesdrops on his parents. Age nine, a few weeks after Akumatized.

Adrien heard voices inside the music salon, on his way upstairs from breakfast with Nathalie.

He didn’t know anyone else was home. Father had been touring and Mom was in the hospital. Why didn’t they tell him they were home?

He pressed his ear against the closed door, hearing his mother’s muffled voice. He wanted to burst inside to see her, but was afraid of his father’s wrath if he didn’t want to be disturbed.

He lay on the floor and peered under the door, his practiced method of spying.

“What do you mean, he wasn’t sure?” his father’s voice seethed. “Either it’s possible, or it isn’t.”

“Then, it’s possible.” His mother's voice was clearer, unobstructed by solid wood.

“I’ll hire the best physical therapist.” His father’s curt voice matched the tap of his shoes crossing the floor. Adrien followed the reflections, shuddering when he saw where they stopped—beside a curve of steel and rubber. A wheelchair?

His father’s weight shifted from one foot to another in an indecipherable, wordless gesture.

“I’m sorry.” His mother’s voice was heavy with regret.

“No more of that, Émilie. This isn’t your fault.”

“My career is over,” she choked. “This ruins the dream you had for us.”

“Émilie, you’re an Agreste now. Agrestes don’t admit defeat so easily. You will play again—promise me you will.”

Silence.

Then, more insistently: “Promise me.” 

“I can’t promise, Gabriel.” Her voice shook.

Adrien didn’t understand, but it felt like something very bad was happening. A tear leaked down his cheek.

“Promise me you’ll try your best, at least. Nothing less than your best,” Gabriel snapped.

Why was his father being so mean?

His mother said something too quietly to hear, and footsteps approached the door—terrified, Adrien leapt to his feet and fled to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, this whole series is about music, so.... I took liberties with this prompt.
> 
> In case anyone is confused or hasn't picked it up from context, Gabriel is a famous solo violinist in this AU, not a fashion designer. Émilie is a pianist, and her career had just started to take off before she got sick.
> 
> Pardon me if you notice any inconsistencies in this series—I'm trying to be thorough with my research and planning, but I'm also writing this on the fly. Feel free to point out anything you think is inconsistent, weird, or wrong. It'll help me!
> 
> What do you think of this chapter?


	22. Modeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The media comes to interview Émilie.

Adrien wiped another tear from his mother’s cheek as it rolled silently from the corner of her eye. “Why are you crying, Mom?” The hard piano bench dug into his knees, folded under him as he pressed to her side.

“I’m not, darling,” she whispered, lips stretching in a faint smile. She mouthed, “Thank you.”

“Adrien, go to your room,” Gabriel commanded, but Émilie lifted her arm slightly to curl around his back, as if sheltering him.

“Can’t he be in the photos, too?” She asked softly.

“Fine.”

Adrien leaned his head against his mother’s side. When he felt her start to tilt, he sat up in shock and put an arm around his mother’s trim waist to steady her.

“Thank you, darling,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.” Another salty stream appeared under her eye, and Adrien dabbed it with his sleeve.

The camera shutter clicked, capturing the moment.

“I still don’t understand why we have to do this, Gabriel,” Émilie sighed.

“You deserve to be heard by the world, Émilie.” Gabriel came and placed his hand in the center of her back.

“Our magazine has immortalized legends in the classical music world,” the reporter boasted. “Your name will be placed alongside world-class talents. And the fact that you’ve only done a handful of recordings? Once your story hits the press—they’ll be like gold.”

Adrien watched his mother’s eyes for more tears and did his job dutifully. Her arms were too weak to wipe them for herself, after all. Couldn’t they see they were hurting his mother?

“Thank you, darling.” She leaned into her son, choosing not to respond to the reporter.

“I love you even if you never play the piano again,” he whispered in her ear.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” She pressed a kiss to his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I may as well explain now. Émilie has a rare autoimmune disorder that attacks the nerve cells. She was in the hospital receiving treatment for paralysis of most of her body and has recovered to some degree, but not fully, so it requires great exertion on her part to do simple tasks like walking or even hugging her son. Playing the piano is out of the question at this time; the best she could do now is pick out notes one by one.
> 
> I did a lot of research and had long conversations with my nurse friend about this disease, to make it medically plausible. I'm using the symptoms and patterns of Guillain-Barré Syndrome, which is a real disease, but I've made some slight modifications to make it work for this series and keep things in the 'fictional' zone. Whatever needs to be known for the story to make sense will be mentioned in due time.
> 
> Émilie's disease and the family dynamic surrounding it play a crucial part in this story and Adrien's future mindset and behavior. What do you think? Did you expect this? Are you curious about what will happen?


	23. Gaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Marinette in the library—just a fluffy and slightly nerdy moment.

“Ugh! Why did I die?!”

Marinette chuckled, looking on beside him. “You’re supposed to _ ride _ the golden violins.”

“… I can’t believe this game exists.” Adrien typed his name to add himself to the leaderboard. “Wait—Ling Ling, ninety-nine million, nine-hundred-ninety-nine thousand, nine-hundred-ninety-nine points? What hope do I have of winning this signed golden violin?”

“No hope—no one beats Ling Ling. I can’t believe you actually counted the nines.”

“Reading sixty-fourth notes has honed my attention to detail.” He clicked to play again. “Who is this Ling Ling, anyway?”

“It’s kind of a violinist joke.”

Adrien waited for her to continue, tapping the keyboard to navigate the pixelated character through a moving maze of notes, clefs, and golden violins. “… So? What’s the joke?—_Ugh! _ Died again.”

“Ling Ling practices forty hours a day… Ling Ling will always be better than you,” Marinette intoned, jotting an answer on her music theory homework.

Adrien laughed. “That’s a way to deal with the pressure to be perfect.”

“Hm?”

“Make it _ ridiculously _unattainable.” He snorted. “Did anyone actually win this golden violin?”

Marinette shrugged, making a serious effort to focus on her assignment. “No clue.”

Adrien scrolled through the comments, until something he read made him gasp, hand to his chest. “Right! What am I doing, playing this game instead of practicing? I feel thoroughly rebuked.” He closed the laptop, standing up to stretch. “Your fault, though.”

Marinette looked up. “You’re actually going to go practice?”

“Well… I should. Unless you wanted to work on Mendelssohn.”

Marinette’s face brightened. “Yes… please, and thank you!”

Her smile was contagious. “Hurry and finish up that assignment then, Princess. I’ll wait.”

He sat back down. His foot was still tingling oddly, but it hadn’t gotten any worse, either. Maybe he was just being paranoid. He hoped so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Golden Violin game: http://umusic.digital/goldenviolin/
> 
> Violinist Ray Chen was offering to send an autographed "golden violin" (super cheap one bought off ebay) to whomever made the top score in this game. I checked to see if he followed through, but didn't see anything.
> 
> Ling Ling is a fictional violin prodigy. I don't know if people who play other instruments are familiar with the Ling Ling joke, but I think it's mainly a violin thing? If you play a different instrument and you know about Ling Ling, or have a joke like this in your instrument community, please comment. :P


	24. Puns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien at age ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet moment from Adrien's childhood.

Adrien crouched behind the banister of the second story, listening to his father storm here and there, making preparations for a trip to Germany.

“You packed all the suits I listed?”

“Yes, sir.” Nathalie followed him. She had somehow become a stand-in for Émilie’s former roles, from Adrien’s piano teacher to his governess and Gabriel’s assistant whenever he was in Paris.

“And my ties? Did you remember the steamer?”

“Yes, sir. All your attire is taken care of.”

“What about the gift for the Chancellor?”

“Of course, sir, how could I forget? All your bags are in the car already.”

They passed into the music room, voices becoming muffled. Adrien shifted his weight, his legs starting to buzz from the way he was sitting.

Footsteps came back to the lobby, and the front door slammed as they went out.

Nathalie would be back soon after dropping Gabriel off at the airport, but Adrien had about an hour before he had to be found practicing. He ran to his mother’s room and climbed into her bed.

She stirred, and he crawled under the covers beside her.

“I heard Father being mean to you again.” He lay his head against her arm and curled his fingers around hers. Her hand twitched in response.

“He wasn’t being mean, sweetie,” Émilie chided wearily, exhausted from a grueling physical therapy session. “Don’t speak about your father like that.”

“He made you cry. He was being mean and unfair,” Adrien insisted with a frown.

“He just wants the best for me, that’s all. Your father isn’t used to dealing with… limitations,” Émilie murmured, rolling onto her side with great effort so she could loop an arm around Adrien’s shoulders. She kissed his forehead. “Don’t worry about me, darling—I’m not hurt by the things he says. I’m just sad that I have to put you and your father through so much stress on my behalf.”

“I wish you would get better.” Adrien buried his face in his mother’s embrace. “I miss when you were happy.”

“I _ am _happy… when you’re here, my love.”

“Don’t worry, Mom.” Adrien lifted his head and looked into her eyes with determination. “_I’ll _play for you. I’ll be your hands. That way, Father can be happy and he’ll leave you alone.”

Émilie’s eyes twinkled. “You’ll be my hands? What a _ handsome _son you are. Best son in the world.”

Adrien giggled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started recording this series. ^_^; Of course... the recordings are way behind the chapters published here on AO3, but I couldn't resist; I really wanted to use my new mic. :P
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWTTRMAgUdA&list=PLInlTrZshMS2MVO5URanJ3jKZ6spXzsCP
> 
> Let me know your thoughts about this chapter in the comments!
> 
> I'm curious, also—what are you wondering about, regarding this AU? What seems unclear? What or who are you curious to know more about, specifically? I know we haven't seen Coccinelle and Chat Noir in a while. Maybe they'll make an appearance soon.


	25. Flirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coccinelle makes an appearance at the jazz club after a period of absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nine hundred words; someone restrain me! Sorry for posting a day late. Yesterday was busy.
> 
> Translations of the French lyrics in the end notes.

“Tu sais je vais t’aimer.”

Chat Noir perked up as the honey-sweet voice met his ears. He turned in time to see Coccinelle taking the steps up to the stage, looking stunning in a red sleeveless dress with a lace bodice. “Ah, really, Ladybird? If I may humbly say so, I don’t blame you—besides my good looks, I also have a great sense of humor.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, Chaton,” she chided, not unkindly. “Do you know the song, or not?”

“Of course. I’m prepared for you, Milady.”

She lifted the mic from the clip, and he played the opening chords.

_ “Tu sais je vais t’aimer… même sans ta presence, je vais t’aimer…” _

Chat Noir closed his eyes as he played, savoring the way Coccinelle’s voice melted into the piano’s tones. Her voice was soft, soothing, easy to listen to—perhaps untrained, but beautiful nonetheless, like a rare wildflower.

The mood of the club had shifted as she sang, commanding the audience’s attention. Who was this girl who could cast such a spell with her voice? Or was it only him under the spell?

Opening his eyes, he was surprised to find her looking at him, her eyes glittering like sapphires in the mood lighting.

_ “Tu sais je vais pleurer quand tu t’éloignera… je vais pleurer, mais tu me reviendras, et j’oublierais la douleur de m’ennui…” _

Chat Noir held her gaze confidently and waggled his eyebrows playfully. A few whoops rang out from the audience. He smirked, enjoying the act.

When she finished the song, she stepped off the stage without so much as a glance his way. Juleka and Luka joined him onstage, with Luka on the guitar this time—his instrument of choice. As they launched into a lighthearted improvisation, Luka setting the chords, Chat Noir discreetly scanned the audience for the girl in the red dress.

He didn’t see her. She couldn’t have left already, could she?

He would have missed her, if not for the way the sequins of her mask caught the light when she glanced toward the stage, about to push open the door.

Chat Noir played a cadence to gracefully retire the piano, and slipped off the stage, weaving between tables, dodging patrons, out the door.

Her heels were clicking on the concrete as she strode away, one hand on her mask.

“Ladybird!” Chat called out.

Her hand fell away from her face and she turned, mask still on. “Chat Noir,” she acknowledged, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk.

He caught up to her. “Leaving without a goodbye?”

“Well, you were busy.”

“A cat always has time to chase a ladybug.”

“You’re too much!” She playfully pushed his shoulder. “Do you ever stop flirting?”

He caught her hand. “With you? Why would I, when it’s so much fun?”

Her smile faded slightly, and her eyes gained a faraway look, as if she were thinking about something else.

“It’s funny,” Chat Noir started, still holding her hand. “The lyrics of your song? They describe the way I feel about you. Almost, anyway.”

“Almost?”

“You seem like someone I could fall in love with. I cried every night you weren’t here to serenade us all with your sweet voice.”

Coccinelle snorted dismissively, rolling her eyes, and dislodged her hand from his. “You don’t even know me. How could you fall in love with me?”

“Ah, but Milady, I didn’t say I _am_ in love with you. Yet, anyway. You intrigue me, that’s all.” He touched the edge of her mask, as if asking permission to lift it. “Do you _ want _ me to fall in love with you?”

She looked aside and tugged his wrist, taking his hand away. “I’m happy with the masks.”

“You’re perplexing. Are you afraid of something?”

They were standing very close. She looked like she was grappling with a thought, and she opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. The veil of playfulness had lifted—he was seeing another side of her.

When she didn’t say anything, a daring thought came to Chat Noir’s mind. He leaned forward—she didn’t move away. He hovered his lips above hers—she still didn’t move away.

He kissed her, quick and light. “Caught you, Ladybird.”

Before he could pull away, she wove her fingers in the tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck, reinitiating the kiss with passion. He closed his eyes, the feeling of her lips overtaking his senses.

As they parted, he brushed aside her thick bangs and touched a front tip of her bobbed hairstyle. “A wig? It’s beyond me why you hide. You’re magnificent.”

“Coccinelle isn’t me,” she answered breathily. “This is all just a game.”

“You’re playing me, then?” He pretended to be hurt. “Did that kiss mean nothing?”

“It meant something.” She seemed uncharacteristically shy. Then again, he didn’t know her true character.

“So you’d do it again? If the opportunity presented itself?” He grinned cheekily.

She kissed him again, something defiant smouldering beneath her gentle touches. As she removed his fedora for a better angle, he lay a hand between her shoulder blades, feeling her warm skin under the web of lace that formed the back of her dress.

“One rule: the masks stay on.” Her words tickled his lips.

“As you wish, Milady.”

She mustn’t be serious. This was all a game to her. And that was fine with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tu sais je vais t’aimer… même sans ta presence, je vais t’aimer…  
You know I'm gonna love you... even without your presence, I'm gonna love you...
> 
> Tu sais je vais pleurer quand tu t’éloignera… je vais pleurer, mais tu me reviendras, et j’oublierais la douleur de m’ennui…  
You know I'm gonna cry when you leave... I'm gonna cry, but you'll come back, and I'll forget the pain of my boredom...
> 
> —
> 
> The song Marinette sings (Tu sais je vais t'aimer): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzjZXKzGxTU  
Marinette's dress: http://bit.ly/2MByUA3
> 
> —
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? Let me know in the comments.


	26. Career

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien has lunch with his father. Present day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, can’t believe we’re in the final week of Adrien AUGreste! I made it this far, staying up to date. :P This has been fun.

“Adrien, we need to talk about your career.”

Adrien dragged an asparagus tip through the cream sauce of his chicken cordon bleu and put it in his mouth to avoid responding. The topic didn’t surprise him. He had been dreading lunch for this exact reason.

“I sense that you’re reluctant to move forward.”

_ Maybe because I am? _ Adrien sighed. “I’m graduating in the summer, then I’m off to the U.S. to play in some of the world’s top concert halls. What else do you want me to do?”

“Release an album. Tour the world, not just America. Appear on television. Are you utilizing social media?” Gabriel sounded like he was reading off a pre-existing list in his head. 

Adrien pursed his lips in annoyance. “Father… how about I start with America?”

“Is Nathalie helping you arrange everything?” Gabriel pressed. “Or do I need to find a manager for you?”

“Nathalie is fine.” Adrien set down his fork, appetite lost. “Father, why do you want me to be famous? What if that life isn’t for me?”

“It pains me to see talents like you and your mother perish, unknown to the public,” Gabriel responded darkly.

The mention of his mother, and the reference to his ‘perishing,’ made Adrien feel vaguely sick. “What if I don’t make it?” he challenged. “Would my life be worthless, then?”

“Of course not, Adrien.” Gabriel’s tone was appeasing. “But that’s no reason to give up, is it? How has your health been? You haven’t… felt anything, have you?”

Adrien licked his lips, which had gone dry, a pit of discomfort opening up in his stomach. He shifted his left foot. The prickling sensation had started to climb past his ankle, but he could still move his toes. “No,” he lied, hoping his hesitation didn’t show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while since Gabriel has made an actual appearance.
> 
> What do you guys think?
> 
> Cheerio!


	27. Hamsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Marinette exchange favors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear! 1,300 words. The beast is hungry.
> 
> I was sleepy when I wrote the latter part of this. But I’m determined to post it before my day officially ends in sleep, so it can count as being on time despite being posted after midnight. Please be forgiving.

“Honestly, Marinette, it was good. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“No, my bow arm was stiff, the triplets were muddy—and those long notes!” Marinette sighed in frustration, the violin still propped under her chin, as if she stubbornly refused to relax completely. “I mean, they’re not hard, but I feel like… like I’m just playing the notes, but missing the feeling. How do I get the _ emotion _ in there? Ugh, I just don’t know how to close the gap...”

“First off,” Adrien cut into her rambling, “don’t obsess about it.”

Marinette scowled. “I’m not obsessing. Can we start over?” She raised her bow.

“Marinette…” Adrien stood and took the violin from her, placing it on the cover of the piano. Then he took the bow and placed it beside the violin.

Marinette watched him mutely, resigned to his guidance.

“You need to relax. It’s not about your technique—I mean, I’m not a violinist, so I can’t really give you any tips there. But the more you try to stubbornly plough through it, the more robotic it becomes. I have to be honest, it sounded better the first time we played it.”

“All right, let’s stop, then,” Marinette huffed, at her wit’s end.

“If you want to.” Adrien smiled apologetically, realizing he was putting her on the defensive. “But I have a suggestion, actually, if you’re up for it.”

“Sure,” Marinette sighed, reaching past Adrien for her violin, only to have him intercept with a warm hand on her forearm.

“You won’t need it.” He sat back down at the piano bench, looking over his shoulder at her. “Okay, just hear me out on this… I want you to sing the part.”

“Sing?” Marinette squeaked.

“Yup. Ready?” Adrien started the piano accompaniment to Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E Minor, only to stop after a few measures when Marinette didn’t come in. He twisted in the bench to find her biting her lip, red-faced. “Marinette, it’s only you and me in this room. I don’t care if you’re horribly out of tune or have the voice of a man—there’s no possible way you could embarrass yourself in front of me. Trust me, this is going to help.”

Marinette doubled over in peals of laughter, coaxing a sympathetic smile onto Adrien’s face as he waited patiently for her to ride out her fit of giggles.

“Sorry—okay. Right. I’m not embarrassed.” She collected herself, wiping away tears. “It’s just—nothing, never mind. Ignore me. Okay. I’m ready now.”

Adrien felt like he was missing out on an inside joke. “O… kay?” He shrugged and placed his fingertips on the keys, glancing over his shoulder again before starting to play. He caught her schooling a pout into a wide, sheepish smile, and suddenly wasn’t sure if the tears she was wiping away were from laughter, or if she had actually been crying. “Um… are you okay?” He asked, confused and concerned.

“Of course!” She flapped her hand at him to turn around. “Let’s do this.”

Not convincing, but he’d pursue it later. Adrien took a moment to get into the zone before he started playing. This was for Marinette. If he let his own worries feed into his playing, how could he help _ her _loosen up?

After a deep breath, he started the accompaniment again. This time, she came in, voicing the violin part on “da da da” an octave down, sometimes jumping to two octaves when the melody soared into the stratosphere. And… her voice! Adrien had to fight the temptation to stop playing and stare at her.

She had a beautiful voice—a voice he felt like he could listen to for hours, and not only because he loved her and would be willing to listen to _ anything _ that came out of her mouth for hours. There was something strangely familiar about it. He tried to come up with which famous singer her voice reminded him of, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. Difficult to draw comparisons when she was singing an instrumental part in nonsensical syllables, anyway.

Marinette stopped when they got to the triplet runs, and Adrien finally spun around eagerly, eyes wide and mouth open in an expression of amazement. “Marinette, I never knew you could _ sing _like that!”

She blushed. “Um, thanks. It wasn’t that great.”

Adrien shook his head in wonder. “No, that was perfect. The expression—you nailed it. Just play it like that. Don’t get caught up on the technicalities.”

“‘Just play it like that,’” Marinette parroted, snorting in self-deprecating humor. “I wish it were that easy.”

“It is! Let’s try it.” Adrien handed over her violin, unable to wipe the goofy smile off his face as he watched her assume position. He still couldn’t get over her voice, and was already brainstorming what he could ask her to sing for him later. Once she was ready, he launched into the accompaniment yet again.

This time, Marinette’s playing seemed to flow more naturally, mimicking the inflections her voice had taken.

“_There _you go,” Adrien cried, punching the air, when the first solo passage ended. “Yes! That sounded much better.”

“Yeah… that helped. Thanks,” Marinette tried to contain how pleased she was behind a modest smile. Adrien could tell she was proud of the result. He was proud of himself for bringing that out in her.

“Anytime, Angel.” He grinned mischievously. “Now, your turn to do me a favor.”

“Of course! I owe you _ big _time for putting up with me and helping me even though you’re so busy…”

“Hey, stop that, I enjoy this. Priceless time with my dear friend.” His grin melted into a gentle, reassuring smile, but his tone remained playful. “However, you _ do _owe me a favor. Do you have anything planned after this? I’d like to cash in this afternoon.”

“I was just going to practice…” She lifted a brow inquisitively. “What kind of favor is this? Should I be worried?”

“Could you come with me to the pet store?” Adrien pleaded hopefully, like a kid asking for candy.

Marinette laughed. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I’m getting a hamster.”

“A _ hamster?! _Why?”

“Why not? My apartment gets quiet—it’s just the piano and me. We need an audience.” He stood up, gathering the Mendelssohn sheet music printouts and slipping them into his messenger bag. “_And, _ because I can. Personal rebellion against my father. He never let me have pets while I was growing up.”

“Poor, deprived boy,” Marinette chuckled, wiping her violin strings with a microfiber cloth. “Sure. Of course I’ll go with you.”

The A string let out a deafening squeak. Adrien winced, while Marinette cackled.

“How are you guys immune to that?” he wailed.

“Years of struggling to make a non-painful sound come out of this instrument—you develop a tolerance.”

—

“I have an even bigger favor to ask of you,” Adrien admitted as they fondly watched their favorite little grey and white hamster nose around its cage, a piece of bedding stuck to its ear.

“What is it?”

“Would you be my hamster-sitter? For when I have to travel?”

“Ahh, the truth comes out—_ that’s _ why he brought me along,” Marinette commented, as a joking aside.

“Yup, thought I’d soften you up with the endearing sight of your future charge before popping the question.” Adrien turned his Puss-in-Boots eyes on Marinette. “Please? Look how cute he is. I love him.”

_ He _certainly knew how cute he was, and wasn’t shy about flaunting it.

“Fine,” Marinette feigned reluctance. “I’ll be your hamster’s backup mom.”

Adrien turned to look at her, the gears in his head turning. “‘Backup mom’ implies he has another 'main' mom, but he doesn’t. That’d actually be you. Are you ready to be a hamster mom?”

“Joint custody. I accept.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? We’re almost at the end of Solfège...


	28. Dadrien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nino and Adrien chat at the club. Lighthearted fun, for the most part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, even though Adrien is Chat Noir, I've referred to him as Adrien because in Nino's eyes, it's just his friend. The name Chat Noir pops up again at the end because that's when he has to assume his persona again.

“Hey, dude.” Nino approached Adrien’s corner table, where his friend was watching the stage with a dreamy expression. Luka had taken over the piano to accompany Coccinelle on _ Fais comme l’oiseau_, with Ivan on the drums.

Adrien had chosen a spot away from the fray, private enough for the two of them to speak frankly. He’d done it on purpose, so he could drop the Chat Noir act and just be himself.

Nino used his foot to pull out a chair, placing two perspiring glasses on the table—a seltzer with lime for Adrien, and a Red Bull on ice for himself. “You look cheerful. Thinking about your bird?”

“Nope,” Adrien answered lightly, assuming he was referring to Coccinelle. “I became a father today.”

Nino nearly choked on his drink. “What?!”

Adrien sniggered at Nino’s reaction and decided to push it. “We named him Émile.”

“‘We’? Who’s ‘we’? Since when—why didn’t you—” Nino cursed. “Dude, you know you don’t have to keep secrets from _ me_. What the heck?!”

Adrien chortled into his fist. “Wanna see pictures?”

“You’re not gonna tell me _ who _ the mother of your _ child _ is?” Nino spluttered incredulously.

“Marinette,” Adrien answered offhandedly, then pushed his phone into Nino’s face before he could freak out.

Laying eyes on the photo of the hamster, Nino shoved Adrien’s hand away and cursed again. “Dude, you almost gave me a heart attack! That is cruel! No more free drinks.” He pulled the seltzer toward himself.

“Isn’t he cute?” Adrien gushed. “He’s my first pet.” That, and the fact that Marinette had agreed to be Émile’s ‘mom’ gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

Nino caught on, putting the pieces together. “I don’t get it, dude. All you ever talk about is Marinette. Why don’t you just ask her out instead of playing around with Coccinelle?”

The humor drained from Adrien’s face. He put his phone in his pocket. “I can’t.”

“Why not, dude?” Nino coaxed. “She’s Alya’s roommate. Landing a double date would be a piece of cake.”

“No, Nino.”

“Why don’t you invite her to the club, at least?”

“I did. She didn’t want to come.”

“Aww, man, why not? Didn’t you tell her how awesome it is?” Nino winked. When Adrien couldn’t muster a smile, instead tipping the tea candle side to side and watching the wax run, Nino clapped him on the back and slid his seltzer back in front of him. “Dude, cheer up. From what you describe, I’m pretty sure she likes you.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t be with her.”

Nino was about to protest when Luka dropped both hands on his shoulders from behind. “I’m here to collect on a promise. Where’s your sax, Nino?—Unless I’m interrupting something.”

“No, go ahead.” Chat Noir waved Nino off, his chipperness dial turned way up in contrast to his prior mood. “The stage awaits you, Nino. Your fans have been looking forward to this.”

Nino shot his friend a ‘we’re-not-done-here’ look before following Luka away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there are some unanswered questions surrounding this situation, including some practical questions. They won't be answered in this short series, but will be addressed in the full series.
> 
> As always... a penny for your thoughts? :3
> 
> Fais comme l'oiseau ("Act like the bird") - https://youtu.be/PLuRZ91ia4s


	29. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien has a nightmare. Present day.

The light turned green, and Adrien stepped on the pedal.

It was dusk. He kept his eyes on the car in front, running a finger along the leather stitching on the steering wheel.

That was when he felt it—a numbness that started from his head and cascaded to his toes, like water filling the inside of his body. His hands fell away from the steering wheel, having lost all strength to grip.

Unable to react, he watched in horror as the distance began to close between his car and the one in front. _No,_ he cried silently, his mind jumping ahead to assess the potential damage of an accident in this kind of traffic. _Not this. Anywhere but here!_

—He awoke, heart racing, shot with terror. The ceiling, faintly illuminated in green from the charging light on his phone, filled his vision.

He realized he wasn’t breathing, and tried to suck in air, but his lungs didn’t cooperate. Feeling a scream build in his chest, he tried to move an arm, but couldn’t turn his head to see whether it was working. He thought he felt his arm rising, but nothing came into view when it should have. Focusing on the edge of his field of vision, he barely glimpsed the dreadful silhouette of his arm still lying in the same spot at his side.

Horrified, he tried to scream, but nothing came out. He was paralyzed in place, and his body started to cry for oxygen. Desperate, he lashed out and, as if breaking the surface of a lake, his body finally jerked into an upright position. He gasped, filling his lungs with air, clenching and unclenching hands that had regained their facility.

Sleep paralysis. It wasn’t the first time he had experienced it.

Drawing even breaths, he waited for his erratic heartbeat to slow down.

Too afraid of it happening again to go back to sleep, he swung his legs out of bed, feet making contact with cold carpet. When he got up and walked, the way his left foot was still slow to respond concerned him. It felt like he was wearing two layers of socks on that foot.

Adrien padded out into the living room and crouched beside the hamster cage. Émile was silent. Did hamsters sleep through the night? Squinting his eyes, Adrien tried to make out Émile’s whereabouts in the faint glow of moonlight that bled through the curtains.

Two beady eyes reflected white dots of light as the hamster emerged from the mouth of his plastic tunnel, the scratching sound a pleasant intruder to the silence of the room.

Maybe Adrien was worrying too much. It had happened twice before. He had been hospitalized when he lost all strength in his arms at the age of thirteen, a year after his mother’s death. After a round of testing, he was deemed physically perfectly healthy. The feeling returned to his arms, and the doctor surmised that he had experienced psychosomatic symptoms of trauma over his mother. It had happened again during his first year at university.

His worries weren’t groundless, though. During the testing he had undergone seven years ago, the doctors had found the mutation in his genes—the same one his mother had—meaning he was likely to develop the same symptoms at some point during his early adulthood. His father hadn’t told him that detail until he was eighteen and ready to leave home for university. The resulting anxiety and pressure from his father to make the best use of his health were probably what spurred the second bout of stress-induced symptoms.

This time, though, he couldn’t be sure if the loss of feeling in his foot was due to his anxiety or not.

Opening the door of the cage, Adrien reached out for Émile, who darted into hiding upon contact with his hand. It wasn’t surprising—the woman at the pet store _ had _told him to give the hamster some distance while he settled into his new habitat—yet, Adrien’s heart shriveled at the lost opportunity for warmth.

He wanted to call Marinette. She was good at cheering him up—but he hadn’t told her about this illness that haunted him and his mother’s memory, and plus, it was the middle of the night.

“How do you like your new home, buddy?” he asked Émile, trying to ground himself in the present reality. Émile rustled in the bedding, the fluffy curve of his side twitching just beyond the food bowl. “You’re a lucky little guy, you know? You have the best mom. I love her. But don’t tell her I said that.”

Adrien hugged his knees, wishing he weren’t alone at this moment.

The raw fear had subsided, at least.

Maybe he’d be able to go back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think about this chapter?
> 
> When I first conceived of this AU almost a year ago, Adrien was definitely going to get sick, but I've changed my mind about it. As of this chapter, he doesn't know he's sick, and I'll just give away now that he is not going to get sick before the end of this series. This is not a story about dealing with sickness and mortality (well, maybe the latter a little bit, but it's something all humans have to consider). He isn't sure, though, and the possibility is enough to freak him out and affect the way he looks at his life and relationships. I just wanted to make that clear right off the bat, since I know Adrien actually being sick would really change the nature of this story for some people and make it hard to read. There will be a happy ending. ^_^;
> 
> When I was in high school, I did a report about psychosomatic disorders. Sometimes, a person's mental stress can cause real physical symptoms, and that's what happened to Adrien in the past and is happening now.
> 
> Sleep paralysis is not a symptom or neurological disorder; it’s something that can, in theory, happen to anyone. It's happened to me before many times. When you sleep, your body naturally enters a state of paralysis so you don't accidentally hurt yourself while you sleep. When "sleep paralysis" occurs, you basically wake up, but this mechanism forgets to turn off, so you can't move temporarily. While it’s going on, you can actually see, but your brain is still half in dream state so everything feels horrifying like a nightmare. I've had it happen that the curtains hanging by my bed were singing to me and taunting me; and I’ve had it happen that I couldn't even breathe, like Adrien in this chapter.
> 
> Anyway, I don't mean to make things too heavy with the health-related stuff. This series will not be too heavy and depressing, and will contain a fair amount of fluff. But, instead of Gabriel being a terrorist who keeps his wife's body in the basement, the Agreste family has other dark influences affecting their decisions and actions. What do you think?


	30. Helping Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien and Marinette meet.

“Um… excuse me.”

Adrien looked up to see a slender, vaguely Asian-looking violinist in grey skinny jeans and a loose pink shirt, dark hair tied in a haphazard bun, sidestepping chairs and stands to reach the piano.

“Would you mind playing from measure eighty-eight? I’m having trouble with that whole section.”

“Sure,” Adrien grinned, happy to help.

After a few repetitions, other students started to appear.

“Thanks for your help,” the girl effused, extracting something small from her violin case and offering it to him. A macaron, wrapped in cellophane. “I’m Marinette, by the way.”

“Adrien. Nice to meet you.”

—

“Early again?”

Adrien had an awkward pocket of time between his private lesson and chamber orchestra, so he usually came half an hour early to practice. For the second time, though, he had company.

“Yeeeah… I noticed you’re always early, so I thought I might be able to bother you again!” Marinette grinned sheepishly.

“It’s never a bother.” Giving Marinette silent kudos for her determination, Adrien decided she was cool, and he liked her. “Which piece and measure?”

“Kaiser Waltz—could we start at the beginning?”

“Sure thing.”

As rehearsal started, she deposited another macaron on the piano’s music shelf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strauss' Kaiser (Emperor) Waltz, arranged for a chamber orchestra of eight instruments: https://youtu.be/rQSMbk-zQGM  
(Some epic violin from 1:56-2:04. :D)
> 
> Was the last chapter too weird? :D Please tell me~


	31. Tropical Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien wishes he could solve his mother's problems. Age twelve.

Adrien slowly became aware of the voices around him as his consciousness drifted to the surface. He must have fallen asleep reading in his mother’s bed last night. He buried deeper into the comforter.

The voices stilled for a moment, only resuming when Adrien didn’t show any further signs of wakefulness.

“I’m only doing it to make him happy, but I don’t see any hope, Nathalie.”

That was his mother. The bed shook as she moved with Nathalie’s help. She was breathing heavily, as if she had climbed a steep flight of steps.

“There’s only a five percent chance of a full recovery. Neither the treatments nor the therapy is working.”

“Even if you don’t recover fully,” Nathalie reassured her, “He’ll still love you.”

Émilie laughed derisively. “Gabriel is only satisfied with the best. He loves who I was.”

“Émilie, isn’t that a harsh judgment?”

“Is it?” Her tone was weary. “I’ve seen the way he looks at me.”

Adrien tried not to tremble as he cried.

—

As Adrien stood from the piano bench, Émilie flashed him her brightest smile, compensating for the applause she couldn’t give. “Well done, my love. Your father would be proud.”

“Are  _ you  _ proud?”

“Of course, Adrien.”

“I have an idea,” Adrien gasped, as if he’d landed on the answer to a problem that had been tormenting him. “Why don’t we move to a tropical island with no concert halls? No one will care whether you can play, and you can relax all day long.”

“Hurry and grow up, then, my little prince, so you can whisk me away.” Émilie’s eyes laughed.

—

During the funeral, when Adrien had a chance to look inside his mother’s casket, he felt empty inside.

_ You didn’t wait for me to grow up. Did it hurt too much to wait? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That essentially wraps up the gesture drawing of Émilie's story. More details will come out in the full story, but the main elements have all been at least hinted at.
> 
> As always... let me know your thoughts, questions, and whatever comes to mind as you read this. :)
> 
> One part remaining!


	32. Kitty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A startling realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! ;___;

“Hey, Adrien… do you still play at that jazz club?”

“Yeah, why?” Adrien looked hopeful. “Did you decide you wanna give it a spin?”

Marinette giggled nervously. “Not yet. I was just curious about something you said.”

“Hm? What?”

“That… no one knows who you are but the owner. What did you mean? How do you manage that?”

“Oh.” Adrien chuckled. “It’s kind of dumb, actually. I’m surprised my cover hasn’t been blown already… or maybe it has, but everyone’s playing along out of pity for me. I wear a mask and dress differently. Style my hair differently—and I always wear a hat. I guess I’ve made a sort of secret persona.”

“Oh?” Marinette’s eyebrows shot up. “You wear a fedora?”

“…Yeah, actually. How’d you know?”

Marinette shrugged. “I could just kind of… see it.”

Adrien laughed, missing her stunned expression. “I’d expect nothing less from Miss Fashionista here.”

Marinette needed confirmation. “Does this persona have a… name?”

“Yeah.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’ll tell you if you _ promise _ not to laugh.”

Marinette gulped. “Deadly serious.” Too serious, actually.

“Chat Noir.”

The color drained from Marinette’s face. “Ah,” she squeaked, at a loss for words. “That’s a… catchy name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that's a wrap. For now, anyway.
> 
> Was it too cruel to make that the last part?
> 
> Guess what?! This fic is exactly ten thousand words long! Look at all those lovely zeroes. :P
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? Of everything?
> 
> Now I'm excited to write Broken Fugue, the full version.
> 
> If anyone wants more of this AU, I’ve been recording each part with background music as an audio fic. Chapter six just came out today; they’re coming out daily.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLInlTrZshMS2MVO5URanJ3jKZ6spXzsCP

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this humble collection of drabbles!
> 
> Explanation of the name: 'Broken Fugue' is the name of the Music School AU story that I have planned out. 'Solfège' refers to the series of syllables applied to the musical scale, and I’ve used it in the sense of 'basics,' since these drabbles are a basic illustration to set up the plot. Have fun following along, if you choose.


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